


Color Me In

by moretomhardy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 20:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17794022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moretomhardy/pseuds/moretomhardy
Summary: Another day in Beacon Hills, another fight leaves Derek battered and bloody. Good thing Stiles is always around to patch Derek up again. This time, they both might get something out of the process.





	Color Me In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inatshej](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inatshej/gifts).



> Happy Valentines Day to Inatshej!
> 
> They mentioned that they liked friends to lovers, so I kinda ran with that for building out the soulmate part of the universe here.
> 
> There's a lot of talk and descriptions of blood and injuries below, so heads up.

It was quiet in the aftermath of the fight. Stiles stood up from his protective crouch in front of Boyd and turned to face him.

"You okay?"

"I think I will be." Boyd grimaced down at the huge gash on his thigh. Stiles tried not to look at the way a big hunk of flesh was flopped away from the bone. "I might need Isaac to put in some stitches until it heals."

"Yup," Stiles looked over his shoulder, transparently pretending to search for Isaac while he took a couple of deep breaths.

Boyd snorted from his place on the ground and Stiles heard fabric ripping. "It's safe to look, now."

Stiles slowly turned back, then heaved a sigh of relief when he saw Boyd had torn off a strip of his shirt to tie his thigh back into one piece. "Thank god. Should I get someone to come carry you to a car?"

“I don’t think I’m gonna be walking any time soon,” Boyd grimaced.

Stiles moved towards the center of the clearing as he looked around for a wolf that seemed up to carrying Boyd; Derek was the obvious first choice, but he was still on his knees next to the body, arms wrapped tight around his midsection. Scott had a grotesque leg wound of his own, and he was leaning heavily on Allison and Kira as the three of them made their way back in the direction of their cars. Both of Jackson's arms were torn to all hell, and he looked dazed from blood-loss as Lydia guided his stumbling steps out of the clearing.

That left Isaac and Erica -- Stiles found Isaac crouched over Erica and had the misfortune of walking up just as Isaac put Erica's shoulder back into place with a sickening pop. Erica grunted and let out a long, hissing breath while Stiles swallowed hard and tried not to think about puking.

"Hey, guys," Stiles said once he got ahold of himself. "Either of you have the ability to carry Boyd back to a car? I think he, uh, severed a few muscles." Stiles gestured vaguely to his own thigh.

"I can." Isaac stood after prodding at Erica's newly relocated shoulder for a moment. He didn't seem to have any injuries worse than some cuts and bruises. "Is anyone gonna help Derek?" Isaac frowned as he swept his eyes around the quickly emptying clearing.

“I’m gonna take Derek home, don’t worry about him.”

Isaac nodded and moved off toward Boyd.

"Can you walk?" Stiles frowned down at Erica.

"I think so. You wanna help me up?" She started to reach both hands up to Stiles, only to flinch and grimace when she got the recently dislocated arm more than 45 degrees out in front of her.

"Maybe just the one arm for now."

"I hate this day," Erica grumbled while Stiles pulled her up by the good arm. She stumbled and crashed into Stiles before getting both feet solid underneath her.

"Are you good to walk back?" Stiles frowned.

"Yeah." Erica scowled down at her leg. "I think my knee took some structural damage, it's really wobbly. If that doesn't heal right I'm gonna be so pissed. Are you sure you've got Derek?"

"Yeah." Stiles looked over his shoulder to see that Derek had staggered his way to his feet. "I'd better go grab him before he tries to wander off. You sure you're good?"

"I'm fine," Erica waved him off, "I'm just gonna be a little slow. Isaac's not gonna leave without me."

Stiles jogged over to Derek and caught him around the waist as he stumbled. "Whoa, there, big guy, let me help you." Derek's arms were still firmly clamped around his middle, so Stiles wrapped an arm around Derek's waist and let him lean on his shoulder. "You making any progress on healing under there?" Stiles gestured toward Derek's stomach, which had been at least partially impaled earlier in the night.

"Dunno," Derek gasped. He leaned a little more of his weight onto Stiles.

"Okay, come on, then," Stiles started walking a little faster, halfway to dragging Derek after him, "we need to get you home and get some food and water into your stomach. There's been a frankly alarming amount of blood lost around here this evening, and even werewolf healing has got a limit."

Derek just grunted and let Stiles shove him into the passenger seat of the Jeep when they made it back to their cars. Stiles waved to Isaac, who was getting Boyd and Erica settled in his own car, before clambering in himself and heading towards home.

"Missed my turn," Derek mumbled a few minutes later.

"What?" Stiles shot an incredulous look at Derek. "Derek, bud, remember how your loft is filled with mountain ash and wolfsbane right now? Not a good place for an injured werewolf to recuperate! You're coming home with me, no complaints allowed."

Derek just slumped a little farther against the window.

Stiles got them home and then managed to drag Derek's heavy body inside the house and to the bathroom upstairs. He shut the toilet lid and guided Derek to sit down on top of it. "Let me see how you’re doing with healing that hole."

Derek pulled his arms away from his body and grimaced as a fresh rush of blood poured out of his wound.

Stiles crouched down and pulled up Derek's shirt to get a better look at the wound. "It's smaller?" Stiles looked up at Derek for confirmation.

Derek looked down and prodded at the edge of the wound. "Think so," he grunted.

"Okay, so, that's good." Stiles ran a hand over his face and looked up at Derek. "But you're still bleeding like crazy, and you kinda look like you're about to pass out. How are you feeling?"

"Tired."

"Yeah, I can tell." Stiles chewed on his lip for a minute. "Well, we can't do anything to get you healing faster, so I'm gonna go get you some juice and calories so you can keep cranking out blood." Stiles stood to leave, and Derek swayed as he followed Stiles with his eyes. "Hey," Stiles grabbed Derek's shoulders to steady him, "no fainting while I'm gone. And you should probably try putting some pressure on that." Stiles grabbed one of the black towels he had bought for situations like this and helped Derek position it over his wound.

Derek groaned as he pressed the towel over his stomach.

“You doing okay?” Stiles asked, eyeing the way Derek had started to shiver with concern.

“‘M fine,” Derek panted.

“Okay, I’m gonna be right back.”

Stiles hurried downstairs and caught himself right before he made contact with the fridge handle with his blood-smeared hands. "Oh god," Stiles wheeled around to the sink, "that is so disgusting."

Once clean, Stiles pulled the orange juice out of the fridge, and, after a quick google, a thing of peanuts, a banana, and a carton of boiled eggs before running back upstairs.

Derek was sitting where Stiles had left him, slumped over on himself with both arms wrapped tightly around the towel pressed to his torso.

Stiles dumped his armful of food on the ground in front of Derek and poured a glass of juice that he handed to him. "Here, bug guy. Drink this, then if it doesn't dribble right back out of you, or make you vomit or anything, we can try food, alright?"

"Your bedside manor needs work," Derek huffed. He reached out to take the glass with a shaking hand and gulped down half of it.

"We can worry about that after you've stopped bleeding and I can get you into a bed." Stiles plucked the glass out of Derek's hand when it started to list dangerously to the side. "How's this coming along?" Stiles gestured toward Derek's stomach.

"I dunno." Derek pulled his arms away from his stomach and propped his elbows up on his knees. The towel stuck to Derek's skin, and Stiles reached out to peel it away with a grimace.

"I can't tell if it's getting better or not," Stiles said after considering the wound for a moment.  
Derek pushed himself a little more upright so he could see for himself. After staring at the hole in his stomach for a minute he pushed a finger into it.

Stiles gagged and slammed his eyes shut as he turned his head away. "Derek, you gotta warn me before you do something disgusting like that."

"It's closing up inside."

"I don't wanna know how you're judging that. Are you still digging around in there?"

"No."

Stiles turned back to face Derek and slowly opened his eyes to find Derek's bloody fingers fumbling the towel back over his wound.

"Could you tell if your guts were punctured?" Stiles asked.

"Don't think so." Derek shook his head. "Growing the ribs back now."

"That is so gross." Stiles held up Derek's half-finished glass of juice. "You think you can finish this off now that we're pretty sure you're not gonna drip it into your body somewhere?"

Derek took the glass and drained it, then nearly dropped it when he tried to hand it back to Stiles.

"Easy," Stiles caught the glass and set it down on the floor. "You want more of that, or do you think you could handle an egg first?"

Derek took a minute to breathe, then decided, "Both."

"Alright." Stiles refilled the glass and handed it to Derek, then peeled one of the eggs while Derek sipped at the juice. They alternated between juice and food until Derek nearly tipped off the side of the toilet again, exhausted.

"Hey, now," Stiles grabbed Derek's arm to steady him. "I said no fainting." He looked down at where Derek was hugging the towel to his side. "Let's see if we can put a bandage on that and get you in bed."

Derek pulled at the towel -- it flopped away from Derek's body, heavy with blood. Stiles grimaced and grabbed the towel, setting it gingerly in a clear spot on the tile floor before it could fall and stain the bath mat.

"It looks better than before," Stiles mused. True to Derek's word before, there were bones threaded across the top portion of the wound instead of the gaping maw it had been. He watched a dribble of blood leak down Derek's abs.

"I wanna take a shower," Derek mumbled.

"Dude," Stiles rocked back onto his heels, "are you kidding me? You're gonna pass out and drown if you try taking a shower right now."

Derek set his jaw and glared at Stiles, his eyes fever-bright in his unnaturally pale face. "I'm disgusting, I'm going to take a shower." He pawed at his shirt and ripped off the tattered remains before starting in on his belt.

"Oh my god," Stiles dragged a hand down his face. He slapped Derek's hands away from his belt when he popped claws to slice it off. "Let me do this." Stiles unbuckled Derek's belt and undid his fly, then untied Derek's boots and pulled them off his feet while Derek wriggled his way out of his jeans.

"Do you really think you can shower like this?" Stiles sighed.

"I'll sit. Just help me get in."

"If you insist." Stiles turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature until the water was running an inoffensive warm. He turned and held out his hands to Derek. "Come on, big guy." He heaved Derek to his feet and gripped his hips to keep him balanced while he got in the tub, one shaky leg after the other.

"Nope," Stiles said when Derek dunked his head under the water, "you're sitting, remember? I'm not coming back in here to find out you slipped and cracked your skull."

Derek growled, but he sank down to his knees without any arguing.

"Good," Stiles stepped back and shut the shower curtain. "Don't drown in there, I'm gonna go get you some clean clothes."

Stiles slipped out of the bathroom and went rooting through his dresser. They had been through this same song and dance enough times before that Stiles knew exactly what things of his would fit Derek the best. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved, thermal shirt -- since he knew by now that blood loss made even werewolves cold -- and headed back to the bathroom.

"How's it going in there?" Stiles called as he shut the door behind himself.

"Fine," Derek grunted.

"Good." Stiles set the clothes down on the counter and frowned down at the ruined clothes and bloody towel strewn over the floor. "Are you gonna be in there another minute?"

"Prob'ly," Derek sighed.

"I'm gonna take care of these dirty clothes. Don't try to get out of there without me, alright?"

Derek hummed in acknowledgement.

"I'll be right back." Stiles scooped up Derek's things and the bloody towel. The shredded shirt went straight in the trash, and everything else went outside to get hosed down before Stiles brought them back in and threw them into the wash. Derek's jeans may be stained beyond repair, but it couldn't hurt to see what a little laundry detergent would do.

That done, Stiles hurried back upstairs to check on Derek. "Still doing okay?"

"I'm done," came Derek's reply.

Stiles moved to sweep the shower curtain back before realizing that Derek had probably taken off his underwear and was completely naked behind the curtain. "Um, do you want me to pass you a towel?"

"You'll need to turn off the water, first," Derek snarked.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Stiles grumbled. He reached in to turn off the water without looking and tossed Derek a fresh black towel. "How's your stomach looking by now?"

"It's getting better." Derek grunted and then hissed from behind the shower curtain. Stiles took a step forward to rip it back, nudity be damned, when Derek continued, "Still not closed up."

"That's okay." Stiles reached under the sink to pull out his extensive first aid kit. He heard the shower curtain slide back and turned to see Derek leaning his elbows on the edge of the tub. He looked exhausted.

"Here," Stiles set the first aid kit down next to the stack of clean clothes on the counter, "let me help you out of there."

Stiles crouched down in front of Derek and leaned in to wrap his arms around Derek's chest, underneath his arms. He stood up with a huff, dragging Derek upright with him.

Derek groaned and clutched at Stiles shoulders as he tried to get his feet under himself.

"Hey, I've got you," Stiles hugged Derek a little closer. "Just try and get your legs out of the tub and we can get you sitting down again."

Derek went more or less limp in Stiles' arms while he pulled his legs over the side of the tub and panted against Stiles' shoulder as he let Stiles drag him back to sit on the closed toilet.

Stiles eased Derek down as gently as he could and crouched down in front of him again, keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder. Derek's face was twisted into a grimace when Stiles pulled back to look at him.

"Okay, let's get you your towel back." Stiles ducked back to the tub to grab Derek's discarded towel. He wiped up the trails of blood that already stained Derek's skin again -- doing his very best not to either touch or look at Derek's dick while he wiped blood out of the crease of Derek's thigh -- and pressed the towel against Derek's wound.

Derek gasped and twitched under Stiles' hand.

"You okay there, big guy?" Stiles rubbed a hand over Derek's thigh.

"Fine," Derek grunted.

"Sure," Stiles sighed. "You think you can handle getting some clothes on?"

"I want to stop bleeding first."

"That's not unreasonable, except that you're kinda still going like a fountain with no signs of slowing down any time soon."

"So put a bandage on it." Derek set his jaw.

Stiles rubbed a hand over his face. "You're going to bleed through any bandage I put on you in a matter of minutes at the rate you're going."

"So tape some plastic over it."

"Derek, that's --" Stiles paused to actually consider the idea. "I guess it's not a terrible idea."

"So do it. I want to go to bed." Derek's voice was slurred and Stiles winced.

"Okay, we can try it. If we get some blood on my sheets, they're pretty old anyways." Stiles grabbed the first aid kit down from the counter and spread it open on the floor next to him. He reached up to pull the towel away from Derek's side and draped it over Derek's lap so he wouldn't be face-to-face with Derek's dick while he put the bandage on. He grabbed the biggest bandage out of the kit and held it up against the hole in Derek's torso. It was almost hilariously inadequate.

"Are you sure we shouldn't be putting some stitches in you?"

"No," Derek shook his head. "It's not a cut, it's missing flesh. Stitches would only make me heal crooked."

"Okay, you're the expert," Stiles muttered. He taped together four of the large bandages and was finally able to get the wound covered that way. He soaked up as much blood as he could with the towel in Derek's lap before taping the mega-bandage to Derek's skin. "Does that feel okay?"

"It's fine." Derek rubbed his fingers over the tape.

"I'm gonna go grab a plastic bag, no falling asleep in here while I'm gone." Stiles hurried back down to the kitchen, much less bloody this time, and grabbed a plastic shopping back out of a bag overflowing with dozens more.

"Haven't bled through it yet, that's good," Stiles said as he walked back into the bathroom. "Now let's see if your idea holds any water." Stiles plopped back down on the floor and cut a big rectangle out of the plastic bag with a pair of scissors from the first aid kit. He taped it on top of the bandage, getting the seal as tight as possible against Derek's skin.

"Okay," Stiles leaned back, "Now clothes, then we can finally get you to bed."

Stiles helped Derek into the shirt first, then he threw the towel covering Derek's lap back into the tub and managed to shimmy the sweatpants up to Derek's hips without traumatizing anyone.

"Think you can manage one more glass of juice before bed?"

"No," Derek whined.

"Come on, just try, please?" Stiles poured another glass and held it out to Derek. "You still look paler than death, I don't wanna wake up to a dead werewolf in my bed tomorrow."

Derek heaved a long sigh before taking the cup. He downed it in several spurts, taking breaks to breath in between each one.

"Anything else you need before bed?" Stiles asked as he took the empty cup back from Derek.

"You have any mouthwash?"

"Yeah, hang on." Stiles rinsed out the cup and poured in a sip of mouthwash before handing it back to Derek again.

Derek swished and spat the mouthwash back into the cup.

"You want to rinse that out of your mouth?" Stiles asked as he dumped the used mouthwash down the sink.

"Yeah."

They repeated the procedure with a sip of water; Derek tried to stand up while Stiles was rinsing out the glass for the last time.

"Hey, no, you're gonna fall." Stiles set the glass down in a hurry and pulled Derek against his side. "You're so difficult, can you just accept that I'm helping you for once in your life?"

"I always accept that you're helping me," Derek grumbled as they shuffled out of the bathroom.

"And then you go and do dumb stuff like trying to get up and walk around on your own when you're so exhausted you can barely sit up straight."

"Tired."

"Yeah, I know, buddy." Stiles reached up to cup a hand over the crook of Derek's neck. A familiar thrill ran through him when Derek not only allowed the contact but leaned into it. Stiles got them into his room and eased Derek down onto his bed, where Derek wasted no time in burrowing himself under the covers.

"You sleep," Stiles squeezed Derek's shoulder, "I'm gonna clean up the bathroom and myself, and then I'll be back."

Derek hummed in acknowledgement; Stiles was pretty sure Derek was asleep before Stiles got out of the room.

When Stiles got back, bathroom, kitchen, and himself thoroughly cleaned up, Derek was snoring very quietly into a pillow. Stiles smiled a little at the way Derek's face was smushed into the fabric. He eased the covers down Derek's torso until he could check the bandage -- the bottom half of it was dark with blood, but nothing was leaking past the impromptu waterproofing, so Stiles climbed into bed next to Derek and pulled the covers back up around them both. It took almost no time for him to follow Derek into sleep.

===

Stiles woke up the next morning to sun in his eyes and a warm body in his arms. Derek must have warmed up overnight and taken off his shirt, because Stiles was pressed up against a lot of naked torso. He hummed and nuzzled his face down into Derek's hair, then pulled back with the intention of checking Derek's bandage.

He froze when he got a good look at Derek -- there was a heatmap of all the places they had been touching painted over Derek's skin in a riot of blues, greens, and golds. Stiles swallowed hard and looked down at himself to see a matching collection of marks spread over his body in red, brown, and matching gold. He took a deep breath and reached out to skim the back of his finger over Derek's cheek, staring in fascination at the dusting of gold left behind on Derek's cheekbone.

Derek's face twitched against Stiles' touch, but he didn't wake. Stiles spent a fleeting second thinking about letting Derek keep sleeping before deciding sleep definitely came second to learning you were newly soulbonded.

Stiles grabbed Derek's shoulder and gently shook him. "Derek, hey, wake up."

Derek groaned and shoved at Stiles' chest. "What're you doing?" he grumbled as he rubbed at his eyes.

"Um," Stiles grinned at the handprint he had left on Derek's shoulder, gold around the edges and darkening to green in the places their skin had pressed together hardest, "you kinda have to see it to believe it."

Derek cracked his eyes into reluctant slits that sprang wide open the next second as Derek registered what he was seeing. He went stiff all over before slowly reaching out and touching his fingertips to Stiles' bare shoulder. He kept them there for a moment, looking at Stiles with wide eyes, before pulling away and staring at the red dots left behind on Stiles' skin. He turned his handover to look at the way his own fingertips were stained blue-green.

"We're... soulmates?" Derek's voice was very quiet.

"Yeah." Stiles couldn't stop himself from smiling. "Who would've thought, huh?"

Derek rubbed his hand up Stiles' ribs, a small smile breaking over his face as he watched Stiles' skin turn gold in its wake. He looked back up at Stiles, eyes crinkling. "I'm pretty sure everyone would have thought."

Stiles laughed and reached down to cup Derek's face in both hands. "You're right, oh my god. Erica and Isaac will be thrilled, I'm pretty sure they've been trying to set us up for months now."

Derek chuckled and Stiles was also pretty sure he could listen to that sound for the rest of his life and never get tired of it.

Stiles petted his thumb over Derek's cheek, watching as Derek's skin went from gold to green to blue the longer he kept at it.

"Can I kiss you?" Derek murmured.

Stiles' hands flew off of Derek's face for a second before they returned to urge Derek up. "Yes, yes, yes, _obviously_ , oh my god, ye-" The rest of Stiles' enthusiastic yes was muffled under Derek's mouth.

They broke apart a few minutes later when Derek's stomach growled.

"Big bad wolf needs his breakfast, huh?" Stiles teased.

"Hey, I'm an invalid." Derek leaned in to peck on last kiss to Stiles' lips before sitting up and stretching. Stiles laid back and enjoyed the view until Derek threw a knowing smirk at him over his shoulder.

"You peacock," Stiles laughed, sitting up to bat at Derek's shoulder. "Come on," he shooed Derek to the edge of the bed, "let's go take off your bandage and get you something to eat. I've got a steak in the fridge with your name on it."

===

An hour later found Derek and Stiles sitting pressed up against each other at the kitchen table, empty plates and coffee cups forgotten in front of them. Of course that was when the Sheriff chose to walk into the house. His jaw dropped as he took in the streaks of color liberally decorating Stiles and Derek's bodies and his travel mug fall out of his hand to clatter against the floor.

Derek startled so badly Stiles was afraid he sprained something as he whipped around to stare at Dad.

"Um, hi, Dad!" Stiles offered a weak wave. "I thought you were on shift until noon today?"

Dad held up his watch. "It's past noon."

"Right, of course." Stiles nodded and rubbed a hand over the top of his head. "Well, um, surprise! Turns out Derek and I are soulmates."

"I can see that," Dad said. "I'd say I should have seen this coming, but honestly I thought the two of you had already hit the level of trust needed to reveal this sort of thing."

"I would have thought that too," Stiles said, "but I guess Mr. Trust Issues over here took a little while longer to catch up with the rest of us."

Stiles smiled fondly at Derek, who's ears were starting to get pink.

"Well," Dad took a step forward and reached down to clap Derek on the shoulder, "congratulations, son. We both already know Derek is a keeper."

Derek blushed brilliantly and buried his face in Stiles' shoulder.

"Yeah," Stiles grinned and grabbed Derek's hand. He stroked his thumb over Derek's skin, watching gold deepen to green and green deepen to blue as his strokes piled on top of each other. "Definitely a keeper."

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](http://moretomhardy.tumblr.com) and occasionally on [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/moretomhardy)!
> 
> This fic is also [rebloggable here](http://moretomhardy.tumblr.com/post/182818455804/color-me-in), if you want.


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